Ruminations of a Broken Heart
by Biker Babe21
Summary: With only a handful of beds at the inn, Caleb and Jester are forced to share, but Caleb's mind won't allow him to rest easy. Rated for angst and the implications of torture and other criminal activities. Critical Role Campaign 2. Caleb and Jester. Widojest.


**AN****: This was my fic for Widojest Week Day 5: there's only one bed. This kind of ran away on me, but I really like the result. This is full of Caleb angst so consider yourself warned. Enjoy!**

**Ruminations of a Broken Heart**

He wasn't sure exactly how he had ended up like this. Sure he could remember everything that happened that day, but he still couldn't wrap his mind around it. So maybe why he ended up like this was a better thing for him to question. Why out of all of the Nein she had chosen him.

He looked down at her sleeping peacefully beside him. Her hands were resting delicately on his chest, and her head had been resting under his chin. Had been until he had moved to contemplate his current situation.

His heart beat erratically as a thousand and one happy thoughts ran their course through him. His body was begging him to gather her up in his arms and to rest his head on hers and breathe in her scent. His hands were begging to lay on her back and rub unconscious circles up and down her. But his mind would never allow any of this, and he put it out of his mind.

His mind knew that he didn't deserve a moment of it, and was desperately searching for a reason for it. A reason as to why she had chosen to share the last remaining bed with him. They had all had to share beds. There was no choice in the matter. The small inn they were staying at only had three rooms left, one larger one that had two double beds, and two smaller ones. Only one of those smaller beds had been a twin-sized bed which Nott was currently sharing with her husband, Yeza.

So they had paired off. Nott with Yeza, and Beau wouldn't let Yasha out of her sight so asking her to sleep with Jester had been pointless. When Jester had put a delicately manicured fingernail and ran it nervously up his arm and asked him to share the other room instead of asking her crush, he had been stunned. Still was in fact. He had never imagined that she would choose him first. He reasoned that perhaps her and Fjord had had a fight. That must have been the reason.

'But then why did she snuggle up so close to you last night? And why did her face fall when you failed to put your arms around her initially? And why then had she smiled and leapt for joy when your arm slowly, reluctantly snaked its way around her afterwards? Why had she been so put off at your suggestion to sleep on the floor instead?' his keen mind questioned. He had indeed suggested to sleep on the floor and relinquish the bed to her to keep his body from getting any ideas and to keep the most hidden part of himself satisfied. The hidden part that wanted nothing more than to remind himself that he deserved nothing less than punishment, pain, and torture if not worse for all his past deeds.

But she had vehemently denied that inner voice. She had grabbed hold of him rather forcefully and pulled him to his feet as he was bending down to sit.

"Oh no you're not!" she had told him. He had been powerless in her grasp as she led him to the bed and pushed him onto it. But he was often powerless before her. It came as no surprise to any of the party that he was no match for her physically. Anyone with eyes to see could see that just by looking at the two of them.

But it wasn't just her physical strength that he was powerless to stop. He often found himself powerless to resist her. To resist her pranks, her cries for help, her smile, her laughter, her drawings, her always brightly colored nails, her lilting voice that always sounded like bird song to his ears. He was powerless to resist all of her.

He sighed. His body knew how it felt about her. His heart knew how much it longed to be with her. But his brain, his cursed ever whirring brain couldn't see it. And oftentimes it was that part of him that won out.

It should be so easy for him to rest easy in her arms. To wrap his own frail arms around her form and hold her tight on the pretense that he was cold. It should be easy to gently place a kiss on her forehead and rest his head on hers and fall back into an easy sleep just holding onto her. It should be, but it wasn't. It never was with her.

It was complicated, he reasoned. She doesn't know the kind of man I am, he often told himself. Doesn't realize how horrific I am, his inner turmoil told him. She'll never understand, the voice taunted.

But yet, another much more hopeful voice said. She had chosen you, it told him. She had chosen you when she could have easily have picked her well known crush, it reminded. You were her first choice, it told him again. Maybe you were always her first choice, the hopeful voice told him.

It was always at the line of thought that his heart would give a happy little skip, that his whole body would react with love and joy. But the moment wouldn't last long. It never did. His mind was far too sharp for that, and it would clamp down on his happy thoughts. Slam the door shut on them, and remind him of much darker times.

Do you remember what you did?, he tumultous voice would always return with. Do you remember their screams?, it would say. Do you remember the flames?, it would go on. Do you remember their faces?, it would remind him. You did that, Bren, it would taunt. You murdered them, it would always scold. And no one could ever love a murderer, the voice would tell him, and his hope would all but disappear. She could never love you, it would end with softly.

He frowned. It was near constantly on his face. The darkest part of him was almost always the cause of it.

But yet…He looked at Jester again. Looked at her hands on his chest. Looked at her head resting so close to his chin. Looked at her breathing so soundly. A smile came to his face.

She could always do that to him. She could always coax a smile out of him. She was doing the impossible. Casting her own breed of hopeful magic to combat his darkest thoughts. And it was working. Gods it was working, and he could almost believe that he was worth the effort. That maybe she was right, and he wasn't as bad as he was making himself out to be.

But the voice always returned. The dark thoughts always came back. Sometimes they were very hard to ignore. Other times he could not escape their murky depths, and he could feel himself slipping further and further back into himself. Back into the depths of madness he had been trapped in for so many years.

But she would always bring him back out. She would have an encouraging word. Or a mischievous prank. Or she would tell a joke and it would scare a chuckle or a snicker or gods above an actual laugh out from the depths of his soul. She was his light in the ever present darkness, and that was oftentimes enough to tear him away from it. To pull him further and further from its grip.

But no matter what happened it would always pull him back. It was happening more often lately. As his past slowly taunts him with images of her precious, delightful, innocent mother being stalked and captured and oh so many unpleasant thoughts. Unpleasant things. Oh gods could his mind cook up soooo many unpleasant things. Many unpleasant things that he himself had done when he was a much younger man, and his imagination could come up with thousands more. Each more torturous and painful than the last.

But then she'd smile or laugh. And for the time his thoughts would still. And his heart would leap. And hope would fill him.

But then he would think of Fjord. Of her crush on him. Of how she was so vocal about her love for him. How she had even came to him asking for advice regarding him. He would think of how he was starting to flirt back, and how little his murderous self deserved her happiness.

Jealousy would roar through him, but his darkest thoughts would tell him again, you don't deserve her. You don't deserve happiness, it would say. You don't deserve to be loved, it would taunt. Who would love a murderer?, it would remind him. And then oftentimes his thoughts would run torturous circles for a while around this thought. She doesn't love you, it would end with, and his heart would break a little more.

But then there would be another smile she'd send his way. Or another joke that would push the sides of his lips upward into a smile or a laugh. And his heart would soar, and he would allow himself to be caught up in the joy of it all.

His fingers unconsciously traced along her arms. Despite his misgivings, his keen mind wanted to take in every detail so that he could replay it later. He was sure that he would replay it several times over, his mind and body wrestling for control of his thoughts as always.

She stirred then, and he tried to jerk his hand away but for once his body wouldn't obey. She curled into him more and snaked her arms around his neck. A moan of content shook through her and another smile tugged at his lips.

She was moaning at him. Moaning in his, well maybe not in his arms, but it was pretty close. All he would need to do was drape his other arm over her. It was so easy. It wouldn't even be much of an effort, but it would change everything.

His body didn't care. His body already knew what it desired, and what it desired was the woman pressed against him. His mind was the one he would need to convince, and it would take a lot of convincing.

She wouldn't stay like this forever. He knew that she could be very impatient. And he was very patient. The two were opposites in so many ways like that. But wasn't it said that opposites attract?

She was loud and boisterous. He was soft and shy. She was naïve and young. He was intellegent and much older. She loved being the center of attention. He avoided attention like the plague.

And yet, he was still drawn to her. He could only hope that she was as drawn to him. He could hope that he had shown her that she didn't need to hide her feelings from him and that she could always rely on him. He may not've been strong in any physical sense of the word, but his magical power was very strong and only growing stronger. At the very least he could use that magic to protect her. Hadn't he proved that to her against the rok, and the orcs chasing them, and the laughing hand?

But Fjord had proved to be a better protector than him so far, hadn't he? He was physically much stronger, and he had easily protected Jester several times already. He had even saved her life more than once. And he didn't need to always constantly be protected and saved himself.

He would be a much better choice for her as a mate. He was strong and handsome and he was not a broken mess. And most of all she already cared about him, and he seemed to care about her. It was perfect. It was how it should be.

So why did it hurt his heart so much? Why did it hurt to think about? And why did he feel a twinge of betrayal and jealousy towards the pair?

He couldn't help looking at her one more time. Why couldn't things work out for him? Why did everything always seem to go wrong for him? He had everything. Everything was suppose to go right for him. He was suppose to become a powerful tool for the Empire. He fucked that all to hell, though. He knew that just as sure as he knew how to cast his dancing lights.

He could hope that everything would turn around and work out for the best. He could continue to hold out waiting for his heart and his mind to get on the same page. He could continue pining for the girl beside him without it going any further. Or….

Or he could stop hoping and start doing. He could wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He could allow her to rest her head against his chest and lay his own head on top of hers. He could kiss her on the forehead and then trail kisses down her face. He would pause there at her plump lips and blow at her lips teasingly before going in for the kill and kissing her with everything he was.

He could do all that, but would he? Would he allow himself to succum to his innermost desires? Would he allow himself to feel with his whole body what his heart already did? Would he allow himself to fall before her and allow his darkness to taint her light? The smile that forced its way up his lips said yes, but his mind still tormented him with its refusal.

For once in his life, he ignored the pull of his intellect. He sighed heavily as he shifted his body and draped his arm over the sleeping girl beside him. He laid his head down and placed a kiss on her forehead before resting his head on hers.

This felt so right, her in his arms that it caused him pain. He needed her, and she had no idea how much he did. How much she caused him such pain whenever she smiled at him or made him laugh. Or how watching her with Fjord caused him pain every single time. How much he longed for her to react to him in the same fashion. She had no idea. But she could know if only he had the courage to tell her.

She sighed in contentment as she snuggled in closer. His body reacted immediately and held her tighter. He kissed her head again, and rubbed her back and arms. His mind might not be able to admit it, but his body was certainly going to have its way while it could.

'Ich lieben dich,' he thought to her instead. He might not be able to admit it aloud, but he could certainly admit it to himself. He was smitten. Had fallen hard for the tiefling, and he wasn't about to give her up just yet. He was too selfish for that. And there might be hope for him yet. He could certainly dream that there was, and his body could be satisfied with that for now.


End file.
